


Necessary Supplies

by xylodemon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Broom Cupboard Sex, First Time, Humor, M/M, MWPP Era, Masturbation, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-07
Updated: 2008-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 11:38:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylodemon/pseuds/xylodemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which James is a menace, there is a problem with the plan, and a misunderstanding results in awkwardness and boyfumbling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necessary Supplies

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://kasche.livejournal.com/profile)[**kasche**](http://kasche.livejournal.com/) and [](http://hpvalensmut.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://hpvalensmut.livejournal.com/)**hpvalensmut** 2008.

"So," James said, a bit too casually, "it's Valentines Day on Saturday."

Peter stilled, blinking owlishly at the star chart draped over his knees. Sirius looked up, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"No," Remus said sharply, his quill twitching between his fingers. "Don't even think about it."

*

Sirius angled his book a little higher and frowned at the wrinkled parchment hidden in its shadow.

"By this time, Beauregard Ploughshot had brought his Amended Statutes for the Segregation of Centaurs for its second review," Binns droned, his image wavering slightly as he floated near the window and lingered in a patch of sunlight. "As the first hearing on this matter caused much of the Centaur population to revolt, the Wizengamot held the second session in secret."

Sirius leaned across his desk, rumpling the parchment with his elbow. As it had been in a right state to begin with -- it had apparently suffered horribly while in James' hands -- this only served to wrinkle it further and lengthen the tear that scored the section James had labelled _Necessary Supplies!!!_

As exclamation points went, the last one was incredibly fraught.

The rest was James' usual fare: a wandering and mostly not-to-scale prank schematic that outlined things like marching formations, viable attack points, probable look-out stations, and acceptable dress. It also included a map of possible escape routes and a detailed itinerary complete with estimations on elapsed time. The former were indexed by distance, dangers, and presence (or lack) of obstacles through a complicated system of numbers, letters, and colour-coding; the latter suggested that travel between Gryffindor and Slytherin by way of the Owlery would only take two minutes seventeen seconds.

"Upon enactment, all Centaurs were removed to Ministry-approved areas, where they were confined." Binns paused, drifting to the left of Sirius' desk, and Sirius straightened a bit, tilting his book up so far his wrist began to ache. "The Ministry set up three such areas," Binns continued, his wispy arm stretched toward a faded map of Britain stuck with dusty pins, "the largest being what the Muggles call Cotswold." Binns gestured at the map again, and Sirius let his book droop slightly. He was probably safe; it wasn't like Binns had noticed Peter's snoring, or the notes McKinnon and Bones were passing. "These areas were guarded and controlled by defensive magic."

Binns wafted away, and Sirius returned his attention to James' plan. Reaching for his quill, Sirius listed his suggestions, complaints, and concerns, scrawling them into a small wedge of space between a hasty sketch of a complicated lever and pulley system and James' lengthy explanation on why he thought the escape route marked 3bx5.8 (red; the Great Hall to Gryffindor via the library via the Room of Requirement) should be redirected past the kitchens.

Sirius approved of the school ties and the doxy eggs. He did not, however, approve of the Bubotuber pus, and he didn't understand why the plan called for a pair of argyle socks, or why it was imperative that the first Tracking Charm be performed barefoot and at precisely twenty-one past three in the morning.

He also didn't understand why James wanted the lever and pulley set up twelve paces due south of the Hufflepuff common room, but some things were better left alone.

*

"Remus."

"No."

James frowned and tugged at Remus' sleeve.

"Moony."

"No," Remus said, lifting his chin.

James wrinkled his nose in reply, but Remus held his ground. He recognised this moment; this was the place where battles were won or lost. James did a fairly good wheedle when he wanted to, but his nervous gestures and girlish whines weren't a patch on Remus' patented martyr routine. Not usually, anyway. Remus had several solid years of practice behind him -- he could do weary, stoic, and long-suffering in his _sleep_ \-- whereas James only pulled out his pout on special occasions. Things would be fine, if Remus stood firm and James didn't really put his back into it.

"But it's Valentines Day," James prodded. His hand slid down, and Remus shook his head as warm, sweaty fingers wrapped around his wrist. "It's Valentines Day, and Sirius--"

"--No," Remus said again, waving James off quickly. James blinked at the rebuff; Remus chewed his lip and studied the stretch of wall behind James' shoulder. It wasn't anything Remus hadn't seen before -- two suits of armour, a rather unflattering portrait of Circe, a championship pendant from a Triwizard Tournament that had taken place over a century ago -- but Remus stared with intent. "No."

James huffed and Remus let his attention wander to his own feet; he watched his shadow darken the floor as he summoned the rest of his resolve. James was one thing, but Sirius was _Sirius_. When it came right down to it, Remus couldn't really refuse Sirius anything, and James knew this, which was unfair. And troubling -- James had to be desperate, if he was playing dirty this early.

"C'mon, Moony."

Remus tugged his wrist free of James' hand. "It won't kill you," he muttered. "You can let one holiday pass without an explosion, or an infestation of wild animals, or Gryffindor losing over two hundred points in one go."

"All right, all right," James said with a sigh. His voice was easy, but the tight set of his shoulders suggested he was already planning his next attack. "C'mon, we'll be late for Transfiguration."

"Right."

*

The Quidditch pitch was dark. It was also bloody fucking cold.

"Really?" Sirius asked, his voice catching on a shiver. "Pink?"

"Yes." James nodded emphatically and tucked his hands in his armpits. "Very, very pink."

Sirius shrugged. "If you like." A gust of wind curled around them; Sirius listened to the banners twist and flap over their heads, watched James' hair try to escape a ridiculously naff knit cap he was fairly certain belonged to Peter. He shivered again and hid his fingers inside the sleeves of his coat. "What about the doxy eggs, then?"

"Oh, right," James replied, sounding suddenly glum. "Probably not."

" _Probably_ not?"

James ducked his head and unearthed one mitten-covered hand long enough to flap it in Sirius' face. "Where we going to get them? I knew Sluggy wouldn't have any -- they're no good for potions and that, and Zonkos won't sell poisonous things to minors." The wind redoubled its efforts; James puffed his cheeks and shuffled a bit in place. "Which is stupid, really. I mean, they're only a little poisonous."

"Huh," Sirius replied, wincing as his chattering teeth caught on his lower lip. "Who do we know who's seventeen?"

"We don't."

"What about... wossname, Prewett?" Sirius asked. "He's old enough, and he works at Zonkos."

"I know he does." James frowned sharply. "He was there when I stopped in."

Sirius huffed, curling and uncurling his frozen toes. "And he wouldn't sell?"

"No," James replied. "He hasn't been there long -- a week, maybe. Didn't want to risk it."

"What about McKinnon?" Sirius asked. "Aren't they -- I mean, he'd probably sell to her."

"Maybe, maybe not. And he might get suspicious, if she goes in asking for doxy eggs the day after I did and got turned away." James paused and rubbed at his nose. His mittens were bright blue with stars on; Sirius was fairly certain _they_ belonged to Henrietta Bones. "Besides, if we ask her, then she'll _know_ , you know?"

"Right," Sirius mumbled. He didn't see the harm in it himself -- McKinnon was a right sort; she had a decent sense of humour and wasn't the type to rat -- but James got paranoid sometimes. It was best to let it be. "Oh, what did Moony say?"

"He said no, just like I said he would."

"Oh." The wind picked up with a howl; Sirius jammed his hands in his pockets and worried a wet clump of grass with the side of his shoe. "That's. Well."

"Stupid? Not on? Complete shite?"

"Yeah."

The silence was sudden, and peppered with the soft sounds of the Quidditch banners trying to escape their poles. James tilted his head, his mouth curving with a half-smile. "Maybe you should ask him."

"Maybe."

"Don't worry about the doxy eggs," James said, his smile widening slightly. "I'll think of something."

*

Remus stretched out on his bed and sighed.

He wasn't sure where the others had gone off to, but he didn't much care at the moment because the dorm was empty and quiet. It was almost too quiet -- just shy of the pointed, suspicious quiet that had always made his dad ask _what's going on up there, young man?_ in an important voice, when Remus had been seven years old and prone to breaking things that didn't belong to him -- but Remus wasn't going to complain.

It had been a long, slow, and irritating day. Remus could've done without James' insistence that Valentines Day go off bang, or the Arithmancy exam he was quite certain he failed, or the uncomfortable and mostly one-sided conversation he'd had with McGonagall about James, Sirius, and their preoccupation with the bust of Slytherin in the Potions corridor. Never mind that he'd landed Rosier as a partner for the night's Prefect rounds, or the commotion Sirius had caused at supper.

The dancing shepherd's pies _had_ been amusing in a tedious sort of way, but they'd also resulted in three very unfortunate things: a mess, tightened seating arrangements, and Remus trying to eat with Sirius _practically in his lap_.

A complete failure of a day, really, and it wasn't even over yet -- he still had to knock around the castle for two hours with no one but Rosier for company -- and he'd been hard since sometime before pudding.

Remus stretched again, letting the silence press against his ears as he shoved his pyjamas down far enough to get his hand around his cock. He stroked up slowly, his fingers curled tightly, his breath catching as his thumb flicked over the head. He tried not to think of Sirius, but that was a complete failure as well; the moment his eyes slid closed his mind snapped back to supper, to Sirius' smile and the long lines of Sirius' throat.

_Sirius' thigh, pressing warm and close against Remus' own._

_Sirius' thumb, brushing across Remus' wrist as he reached for the pumpkin juice._

_Sirius' mouth, shining wet and red as he laughed._

Sirius' face, faintly pink and framed by Remus' bed hangings.

"Bloody Hell!"

"Fuck! Bloody fucking -- sorry, Moony."

Heat slammed into Remus' face, stinging his cheeks, and he twitched away from Sirius, curling in on himself as he groped for his blankets. Sirius sucked in a sharp breath and took a quick step back, but he didn't leave, didn't look away. He shifted in place instead, shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot and clutching at the bed hangings with nervous, white-knuckled fingers.

"Well, what?" Remus demanded. He tried to pitch his voice low, but it betrayed him immediately, spiking up into something high-pitched and slightly hysterical. "What do you want?"

"Oh, I was... um, I was just -- I'll come back later."

*

"Your flies are open."

"Sirius' hands twitched automatically -- _guiltily_ \-- but when he looked down, he found he was belted, buttoned, and zipped. His expectant frown was met with a snort.

"Yeah," James said smugly, his hand cupped around the fag they were mostly sharing. Mostly. It wasn't really sharing if James refused to return it. "Thought as much."

"Thought what?"

"Thought you left me waiting just so you could rub one out in the bog."

Sirius sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I did not."

"Yes, you did," James insisted, gesturing sharply with the cigarette. "And your flies _were_ open at breakfast, so that's twice today. Twice today, and twice last night. I heard you," he added, before Sirius could argue. "Your Silencing Charms are rubbish."

Heat crept across Sirius cheeks, prickly and sudden. He looked away, squinting at a group of Hufflepuffs huddled underneath a tree, and shrugged.

"Well, who is it?" James asked. He pushed away from the wall, grabbing Sirius' elbow for balance, and watched Slughorn waddle across the courtyard with curious eyes. "Who's got your knickers in a twist?"

"No one," Sirius muttered, because the truth -- _I saw Remus having a wank last night and I've just about had a hand down my trousers ever since_ \-- would never do. He sighed, reaching for the fag, but James was quicker; he caught air, then James' wrist, then more air. "It's nothing."

"Fine," James said, snickering. "Don't tell me."

"Fine. I won't."

James studied Sirius for a moment, his eyes narrowed, then bumped his shoulder against Sirius' and offered up the cigarette by way of pushing the filter-end at Sirius' mouth. He jabbed Sirius in the chin once and the lip twice before Sirius growled and snatched it away.

"Git."

"Wanker."

"Tosspot."

" _Wanker._ "

The fag was crawling with ash; Sirius took a short, final drag and let it drop next to his shoe. It landed in a puddle with a sharp hiss.

"So," James said slowly, "about those doxy eggs."

Sirius frowned. "What about them?"

"Chizpurfles."

"Chizpurfles?"

"Yes," James said, nodding. "It'll be brilliant." His smile was wide and somewhat maniacal. "Did you talk to Moony?"

"No," Sirius replied, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. He hoped James wasn't paying too close attention; he was hard again, and the blood that wasn't rushing to his cock was speeding toward his face. "No."

"No?"

"I tried last night, but he was -- um, busy," Sirius mumbled, shifting uncomfortably. "I figured I'd try again later."

*

Avoiding Sirius wasn't that difficult.

At least, it shouldn't have been -- it mostly involved frequenting dark corners and hanging around places like the library, and Remus had had plenty of practice at it, because he avoided Sirius all the time. When Sirius' voice was throaty with sleep, when Sirius' hair was rumpled and soft, when James and Peter were smiling at Remus like they _knew_ , when Remus' cock flat out refused to behave.

Remus enjoyed Sirius' company; he had a sharp tongue and an easy, dangerous laugh, but sometimes, _sometimes_ , his bright eyes and quicksilver smile were a bit much. Sometimes, Remus couldn't ignore the things that essentially made Sirius _Sirius_ : the way he tilted his hip when he leaned against a wall, the way his mouth curved around a dirty word, the way his long fingers pulled at Remus' sleeves when he wanted Remus' attention.

Sometimes, it was simply easier to pretend Sirius wasn't there, and Remus was fairly good at pretend. Unfortunately, pretending Sirius hadn't seen him half-naked and pushing into his own hand was beyond Remus abilities, so he was avoiding Sirius, had vague plans to avoid Sirius until the middle of next term.

It shouldn't have been difficult, but right now, it seemed almost impossible. Sirius was _everywhere_. He'd turned up in all of Remus' usual hiding places, and Remus had twice found him loitering near the handful of spots Remus generally saved for dire emergencies. Remus didn't believe in coincidences, and he didn't really think he was losing his touch, which only left one thing: Sirius didn't want to be avoided.

At the moment, he was shadowing Remus down the Charms corridor -- not following, precisely, but not really letting Remus get more than a suit of armour or two away.

Remus took the next corner, pushed inside a knot of Ravenclaws hurrying the opposite direction, and ducked into the first broom cupboard he came across. It was standard issue -- dark, musty, horribly cluttered and impossibly tiny -- and Remus sighed in resignation as his elbow connected with something he couldn't quite see, and a year's worth of dust curled inside his nose. He wasn't overly fond of broom cupboards; they brought spiders to mind. Spiders and dirt and, strangely enough, the Muggle sardines Peter ate straight from the tin, but Remus didn't need to stay long -- History of Magic started in less than fifteen minutes.

He banged his elbow again, jerked away, and stepped on something soft and possibly wet. He pulled his wand, wanting to see whatever it was he'd just murdered, and got it lit just as the doorknob jiggled. He watched it turn in something close to horror.

Framed by the doorway, Sirius managed to loom and slouch at once.

"Moony?"

Remus blinked. The cupboard seemed to shrink considerably. "Sirius." His face was _on fire_.

"You're -- are you -- what are you doing?"

"I. I was just -- um, I don't know."

"Sorry," Sirius mumbled, frowning around his thumb as he chewed at the nail. "About, you know. Last night."

Remus did his level best not to twitch, even though his skin was crawling like it meant to abandon his body. "It's fine," he said quietly. "Let's just forget about it."

"Yeah," Sirius muttered. His thumb was _still_ in his mouth. "I'm trying to."

"Trying?" Remus asked tightly. "Trying?"

"I don't know. I just" -- Sirius crowded into the cupboard, letting the door snick closed behind him -- "I can't, um."

Sirius leaned in a bit.

Remus managed a good full second of panic. After that, he discovered that Sirius tasted like cigarettes and boy.

*

Remus' mouth was hot and wet and perfect, and Sirius decided kissing Remus was the best idea he'd ever had just about the time his shoulders slammed into the cupboard door.

"Ow, fuck," Sirius hissed, arching against the pain blooming up toward his neck. "Merlin's balls, Moony."

"What was that?" Remus asked quietly. His lips were shiny and swollen, but his jaw was tight and the heat spreading across his face had a dangerous and angry edge. "What?"

Sirius made a soft, strangled noise in the back of his throat. He didn't really have an answer for that. He'd kissed Remus on impulse; he hadn't much thought about how Remus would react, and the handful of explanations waiting on the tip of his tongue didn't sound like anything Remus would want to hear.

"I wanted to," Sirius managed. _I've been thinking about your mouth all day. I maybe want your skin under my hands._ "I wanted to."

Remus' lips folded into a thin, white line. "Wanted to what? I'm embarrassed enough -- so you thought you'd try and make it worse?"

"No." _I thought I'd try and touch you_. "No."

"Right." Remus took a deep breath, leaned closer. Sirius' hands darted out; he caught Remus by the arms, his fingers twisting in Remus' robes, but Remus shrugged him off quickly. "Move."

"What?"

"I'm leaving now," Remus snapped. His elbow was sharp against Sirius' side. "Get out of my way."

Sirius pressed forward, kissing Remus again. It was awkward and horribly clumsy; Remus turned his head and shied away, his back knocking into the wall, but Sirius dug his fingers into Remus' sleeves and tilted his head until he found an angle that worked. Remus growled -- a low, rumbling sound -- and shoved at Sirius' shoulders. Sirius curled one hand behind Remus neck and pushed his tongue into Remus' mouth.

"Stop it," Remus said, sharp and angry as he tried to twist away. "This isn't funny."

"No, it isn't," Sirius conceded. He should leave -- they had class in a few minutes and Remus was bloody furious -- but Sirius couldn't stop touching him, couldn't stop brushing his thumb under Remus' ear or pulling at the soft hair at the nape of Remus' neck. And Remus was hard. They both were. Sirius ducked his head, hoping to catch Remus' mouth; his lips found Remus' chin instead and he slid them down over Remus jaw. "It's not. Funny."

"Stop." It was still angry, but his voice was softer, breathier, had lost some of its bite. "Stop. You and James can both piss off."

"James?" Sirius asked, pulling away to frown at Remus. His eyes were wide and dark. "What about James?"

Remus stiffened and jerked his arm free of Sirius' grasp. "Don't. Don't act like he didn't send you in here." Sirius stepped back, stunned, and Remus used the sudden freedom and space to give Sirius a shove. "The doxy eggs didn't work out, then?"

"Chizpurfles," Sirius mumbled automatically. Remus mouth worked silently; Sirius wanted to bite his lips. Instead: "What the fuck are you on about?"

"Me? What am _I_ on about?" Remus ran a hand through his hair and gave Sirius another shove. "What are _you_ on about? Why are you even in here?"

"I wanted to kiss you!"

"I won't be kissed for James' amusement!"

"What?" Sirius asked shortly. "Are you -- you're not -- are you drunk?" His cock _ached_. He wanted Remus closer, wanted to push it against Remus' hip. "Did Prongs slip Old Ogdens into your tea again?"

"No! He slipped you into this cupboard! He sent to you snog me for his grand, Valentines Day prank."

"He -- I'm not -- _what_?" Sirius curved his hands around Remus' waist, pulled their bodies flush. "Valentines Day is tomorrow, and you" -- he pushed a quick kiss to the corner of Remus' mouth -- "you're an arse."

*

Remus gasped, sucking a sharp breath comprised of dust and skin, and twisted his fingers in Sirius' hair.

Sirius had said -- _insisted_ \-- this wasn't some kind of sick joke, and that might be true. It might be true, but it didn't make this any less unreal. He was in a broom cupboard instead of History of Magic, with his trousers shoved down around his knees and Sirius' hand wrapped around his cock.

"Fuck," Sirius murmured, and Remus could only agree. Sirius' hand slid up, his wrist twisting _just so_. He rubbed his own cock against Remus' thigh with a long, slow roll of his hips and a liquid flash of heat curled around Remus' spine. "Fuck."

Sirius kissed him, slow and wet and dirty, and Remus pushed into Sirius' hand with a sigh. He wanted to touch Sirius, wanted to rip his way into Sirius' trousers, but he couldn't seem to move his hands from Sirius' arse. It was hot, too hot -- sweat was pooling at the base of Remus' neck and he felt dizzy, light-headed, felt like he couldn't breathe. Sirius shifted, arching into Remus, and Remus pulled him closer, pressed his mouth against Sirius' neck.

"I've been thinking about this," Sirius said, low and gravelly, his tongue tracing the curve of Remus' ear. "Since I saw you yesterday, when you were -- you looked so -- I keep touching myself and thinking of you."

Sirius teeth scraped against his skin, catching the soft spot just underneath his ear, and Remus moaned, his hips jerking with the slip and pull of Sirius' strokes, and forced his own hands to cooperate. He slid one over Sirius' hip, working it between the tight press of their bodies, but his stupid, shaky fingers caught and fumbled on Sirius' zip. Sirius groaned -- a quiet, strangled sound that fluttered against Remus' jaw -- and Remus pushed their mouths together, settled for rubbing at Sirius' cock with the heel of his hand.

"Oh. _Oh_." Sirius froze, his hand stuttering on Remus' cock as a long shiver ran up his body. "Moony."

Remus dragged Sirius closer still, one hand tangled in Sirius' shirt as the other worked over Sirius' cock. Sirius' hips snapped up, shoving his cock against Remus' hand; the metal teeth of Sirius' zip scraped over Remus' skin, but Remus just pressed back harder. Sirius' head dropped to Remus' shoulder, his face tucked into Remus' neck. His sharp breaths caught on a whine, and Remus shuddered, a moan catching in the back of his throat as Sirius' fingers tightened on his cock.

Sirius' hand slid over him hard and fast and Remus simply stopped, choking out Sirius' name as the world flashed white and grey around the edges.

"Fuck." Sirius' eyes were wide, and his hands shook as he fumbled with his zip. "Moony."

Remus smiled. "I still say this is part of your grand Valentines Day prank."

"Piss off," Sirius replied, reaching for Remus' hands. "I want you to touch me."

*

When they opened the door, Peter was waiting for them. He had a slightly hunted expression on his face and the Map clutched tightly in both hands.

"We have to go," he announced, sounding very, very desperate. "Now." He released the Map long enough to point down the hallway. "Ravenclaw has food poisoning."

Sirius wasn't sure what to say to that. "Which one?" he managed finally. "Boot? Manson? Patil?"

"No, _Ravenclaw_ ," Peter said patiently. "All of them. Even Flitwick."

"What?" Remus asked, just as Sirius said, "I thought he couldn't get the doxy eggs."

" _Mischief Managed_ ," Peter replied, tucking the Map away. "He didn't."

"But Chizpurfles don't--"

"--He found some Gillyweed that'd gone off," Peter explained. "Rather looks like lettuce. I'll never know how he got it into all those sandwiches unnoticed."

"Well," Sirius said thoughtfully, "he did build that bit with the lever and pulley."

Remus sighed and rubbed at his face. "Hang on -- that's the grand Valentines Day prank? Giving Ravenclaw _food poisoning_?"

"No, I think this was revenge. Or something." Peter frowned and tugged at his ear. "Hunter Gibson asked Evans to Hogsmeade for, you know. Tomorrow. Puddifoots, and that." He took a tentative step away, then another. "Can we go, then? McGonagall's really done her nut this time -- she might actually kill him."

"Right," Sirius said, and Remus nodded.

"Wait," Peter said suddenly. He cocked his head to the side like a bird. "Your flies are open."

Their hands darted down at exactly the same time. Sirius frowned as his fingers slid over a perfectly closed zip.

"Yeah." Peter smirked. "Thought so."


End file.
